


An Enchanted Hanky-Panky Babymoon

by CaroBertaud



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Hostage Situations, Mermaids, Rough Sex, Season/Series 08, Sirens, Smut, pregnant scully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8183035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaroBertaud/pseuds/CaroBertaud
Summary: Mulder convinces Scully to leave the city for a few days. A nice little romantic getaway, he thought. Not exactly what he had in mind.Set shortly after s08e19 Alone.





	1. A Holiday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennylovescastle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennylovescastle/gifts).



Considering she was in her eighth month of pregnancy, Scully’s walking back and forth from bathroom to bedroom was a tad energetic. Her pace was quick and adamant as she pulled fresh clothes out of the dryer, folded them on the bed and stored them here and there in the closet and dresser. Mulder was standing in the middle of her room. His hands in the pockets of his jeans, he was following her coming and going, spinning around his own axis like a sunflower chasing the sun.

 

      “Scully, come on,” Mulder insisted, almost begging, “you’re on maternity leave and I’m unemployed, what better timing could there be?”

      “As much as I like the idea, Mulder, I can't,” she replied lightly, neither looking at him nor stopping her upbeat circle of tidiness. Her tone was neutral. She wasn't pissed; she just couldn't, had better things to do apparently.

      “But why?” He whined. “You’re not on bedrest, the baby shower was a couple of days ago and we went to Lamaze class. The next step should be …?”

      “Hmm …” She stood still and upright at once, and then she brought her index finger to her pursed mouth, acting as if she really had to think about it. “Birth?” She answered in a high-pitched voice with an off-center smile.

      He clasped his hands and smiled. “Exactly!” He took two big steps to stand in front of her and blocked her path. “Uh-uh, forget your laundry here for a second, my head is dizzy just trying to follow you,” he said, catching her hands over the empty hamper. “And birth shouldn't be until …?”

      “A few weeks?”

      “Perfect! Scully, when was the last time you went on a vacation? I mean a real vacation?”

      “I uh, … I believe it had an evil doll a la Stephen King in it,” she admitted with a grin. She looked upwards, remembering the little girl and her vile _Chinga_ doll, and she shivered and shrugged.

      “Ha!” He chuckled. “Yes, I remember that.” He bent his knees to level his eyes with hers. “So?”

      “ _So_ , Mulder?” She exclaimed as if his request was nonsense. “I can't fly, I’m not comfortable with sitting in a car either, I have mood swings, I have to go to the bathroom every other minute, —”

      “We won't go far,” he interrupted her. “Promise. And sans evil doll.”

 

She stared at him, and he grinned to encourage her. She sighed. How did he do that? How did he always obtain what he wanted? Like _always_. Like there was no considering it. It just had to be “Okay, let’s do this.” This time she would set conditions though. She sighed, resigned.

 

      She withdrew her hand and looked up at him intently. “Not far,” she warned. He quickly shook his head in agreement. “Not long,” she continued. He shook it again. “And no backpacks or tents shall be involved.”

      He smiled. “Two, three days. Four days at the most. You and me.”

      “Fine,” she said with a little smile.

      “Thank you,” he sighed with contentment and dropped a kiss on her forehead on his way out. “I’ll go pack a few things.”

      She knitted her brows as she gazed suspiciously at his walking out of her room. “Mulder?” She called out with a thoughtful tone of voice.

      His hand loosely gripped the doorframe and, with his arm straightened, he pivoted to face her. “Hmm?” He raised his eyebrows and leaned against the doorframe.

      “Are you doing this to keep me away from the Bureau?”

      Mulder rolled his eyes, slyly denying it. “I am not.”

 

***

 

      Sitting in the passenger seat, she looked at him through the windshield as he walked around the car. “So, where are we going?” She asked when he was taking his place behind the wheel.

      Mulder looked at her. Fastening his seatbelt, he smirked and then he put the key in the ignition. “I found a little cabin in California —”

      “But, Mulder —” She said with a whiny voice.

      “— California, _Maryland_ , Scully. It’s an hour and a half drive away, relax. We’ll be there before dinner. Is that okay?”

      She instantly relaxed and smiled apologetically. “Yes, that is okay.”

 

Mulder put the car in drive and opened his window as the car started moving. Scully outstretched her legs, crossed her hands above her round belly and comfortably leaned her head back against the headrest. The sun was high in the sky, and her neighborhood in Georgetown was deserted. Maybe this little getaway wasn't such a bad idea after all. As odd as it was, they had never taken a vacation together and the more she thought about it, the more she was looking forward to it. She was still convinced that Mulder was worried about her and/or didn’t fully trust her to stay out of work, and a part of her was undeniably still anxious about knowing Doggett was all alone. But she now took these few days away blissfully. It also was a good way to bond again with Mulder. In the beginning of his returning from the dead, he had been so distant with her that it had been hurtful, not knowing how to be with him and wanting to more than anything in the world. But thankfully time had passed and they had come a long way since then. Things were now almost back to where they’d left them, save for the pregnancy. They had shared the intimacy of a bed again and whatever the future held for them, today was a bright day.

In the beginning of the trip, their conversation turned around topics like their destination — where neither of them had ever been in spite of how close it was to DC — or the weather at this period of year: nice, warm and windy. As they tried to recall their last vacations, they ended up looking a lot further back in time than they had imagined. Mulder remembered his summers in Martha’s Vineyard while she recalled her not-so-girlish games with her brothers and sister. It felt good to remember these memories in a heart-lighted way. It hadn't always been the case for either of them.

Before she knew it, they had reached their current vacation-land.

 

      “We have to walk the rest of the way but it’s really close now,” Mulder said.

      “Good, because my huge belly just reminded me how it presses against my peanut-sized bladder.”

 

Mulder smiled and took both their bags out of the trunk. He locked the car and she gratefully took the hand he offered her.

They walked a few hundred yards on sand and little black rocks toward the Patuxent River, leaving sparse woods behind them. A gentle breeze playfully fluttered strands of her hair and she used her free hand several times to trap them behind her ears. As she followed his lead on the dirt path, crossing no living soul, she soon realized that the trail headed to only one peculiar habitation. She stopped them to look at it.

 

      “A little cabin, huh?” She turned upon him a falsely reproachful but truly delighted look.

      “Looks nice and cozy, doesn't it?”

      “Mulder, it’s beautiful.”

 

A few feet from them stood a restored lighthouse that was perched on stilts screwed into the sea floor. Connected to the land by a little wooden bridge, the square two-story house was resting on a gallery deck with white balusters on which a rowboat was hung. The house had white painted clapboard wood siding that contrasted beautifully with the dark green shutters that were open, a reddish pitched roof, and a station’s fog bell hung in the dormer window on the water side of the structure’s roof. On the first floor, a double glazed window and a single-hung window stood on either side of the entrance door. The second floor was straight underneath the rakes of the roof, and had two side-by-side single-hung windows. Finally, above the roof was a small octagonal glass tower that hosted the lens and lantern and was surrounded by a widow’s walk with dark balusters and a handrail.

 

      “My parents used to rent places like this for holidays. I’ve always thought they were cool.”

      “It looks amazing.”

 

They crossed the ramp railing to the front door of the house, and Scully walked toward the end of the deck while Mulder opened the door. With her hands on the baluster facing the water, she closed her eyes and inflated her lungs as the brisk wind washed over her face. Mulder put the bags down and joined her.

 

      “Feels like a vacation?” He said, his hand gently finding its ways on her lower back.

      “How would I know?” She looked at him sideways and smiled. “Does this come with pizza deliveries, too?” She wrapped her hands around his arm. “Because besides having to rush to the bathroom, I’m also starving.”

      “Food!? Uggh, I thought we’d live on fresh air, salted water and making love,” he smirked.

 

She chuckled and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. Then she looked back up at him with a bright smile, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and walked toward the house. Mulder took the view in for a moment, taking a deep breath of the refreshing wind blowing off the river, and had just caught up with her when he heard her incredulous “Who filled the fridge, Mulder?”

 

***

 

Just before sunset, as the lantern of the lighthouse was still off and silent, the only noise that was disturbing the crickets singing and the low roar of the ocean was the water lapping under sailboats descending the river. Scully was relaxing in a long chair on the widow’s walk when she saw Mulder arriving from the corner of her eye.

 

      She put up a hand to stop him and he froze like a statue. “Shh,” she said, closing her eyes. “Listen to this silence.”

      Cautious not to disturb the settled peacefulness, Mulder kneeled beside her and handed her a bottle. “Dinner is ordered, ma’am,” he said, almost in a whisper. “And here: non-carbonated alcohol-free beer.”

      “So much for all the fun.”

      He took a seat in the long chair next to hers and laid down. “It looks like it’s gonna rain,” he said solemnly.

      “No, it doesn't,” she objected lest he had just jinxed themselves, ignoring the clouds that did seem to gather above them.

      He didn't argue. They looked at the sky in silence for a while. After a minute or so, he said, “Do you ever just lay down on a dark night, look at the sky and think about all the messed up things in this world?” She looked at him with an intrigued eye. “Like why is the sunset on the wrong side of this walk for one?” He smiled.

      She smiled, relieved. “Or why is there a D in fridge and not in refrigerator for two?”

      “I don't know, Scully, but I get the message that you’re hungry.”

      “A pregnant woman is always hungry, Mulder.”

      “It’s on its way. Be patient.”

 

They fell quiet for another minute. It wasn't awkward, they were used to it, comfortable with it. Their presence had often been enough for the both of them. Mulder looked at Scully. She had closed her eyes again. He gazed at her, a peaceful smile curling up his lips.

 

      “If you ate pasta and antipasti during the same meal, do you think you’d still be hungry?”

      She giggled and opened her eyes. “It depends on what else is on the menu. For example, let’s say that your left leg was lunch and your right leg was dinner, I couldn't resist snacking between meals.”

      “Wow, Scully! That’s … forward! If I didn't know better I’d be wondering if you’d been drinking.”

      “No, but I do need real food, too.”

      “Too? Okay, then we’ll fix you with something … too.” He narrowed his eyes and nudged his head with a sidelong glance. “I’m intrigued, though, what else is new with you?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Well, the last time I saw you, you weren't hiding a basketball under your shirt.”

      “Yes, I was.”

      “I mean, you weren't before I, uh, disappeared off the face of the earth. What comes with this new pregnant package of yours?”

      “You wanted a vacation with a pregnant woman but you don't know what to expect, huh?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here!”

      “Unlike rats, I don't abandon a sinking ship.”

      She laughed again. “You’ll get it deficiencies-all-inclusive, Mulder: bathroom emergencies, food cravings in the middle of the night, crying for no reason, screaming for no reason, laughing for no reason either, breath-catching during the shortest walks, feet and legs hurting, long hours lost in bathtubs … be happy that my first-trimester nausea has ebbed and my hormones are revved.”

      “You won’t make me turn around, Scully.”

      “Yeah, I know, I’m glad you don’t give up easily.”

      “Why would you want me to? Plus, there’s something else I know about pregnant women.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped and his elbows on his knees in a confiding posture. “Some of them anyway, but according to some snippets of the conversation we’ve just had, you don’t seem to be the exception to the rule.”

      “Which is what?”

 

The bell rang out through the house and put Mulder’s answer on hold. He smiled and looked at her enigmatically, then he stood up, leaving her with a what-the-fuck look. A teenage boy was waiting at the door with two brown bags in his hands. Mulder said hello from the roof as the boy presented himself as the delivery boy.

Scully arrived and switched the light on as Mulder was closing the door upon thanking the boy for the news.

 

      “What’s the heads up?” She asked when they were alone again.

      “The weather is going to be bad tonight.”

      “Oh, well. At least we don't have to go out to dinner.”

      “Do you ever think of anything else lately?”

      “I —”

 

Before she had the time to answer, a bright bolt of lightning lit up the living room. They both turned toward the windows facing the salted river. Thunder followed soon after, at close distance and shaking the house.

 

      “The boy was right,” Mulder said.

      “I don't believe this, it was beautiful just before.”

      “I should go and check on the boy, he was riding a bike.”

      “Yes, go ahead, I’ll set the table.”

 

Within only a few minutes, it was pouring rain, with more lightning and thunder. And another few minutes later, the lights flickered and then the house went dark. She looked outside and realized the lens of the lighthouse had gone out too. Luckily enough, when she was setting the table, she had put candles next to the cutlery. She thought it would be a romantic dinner in spite of the storm outside, but now she could definitely light a couple of them.

 

When Mulder strode inside, he was soaked beyond redemption. Scully covered her mouth not to laugh at his face. He closed the door and stayed near the entrance, probably not to ruin the whole floor. His arms were hanging by his sides, water dripping. The only difference Scully could tell between _this_ and a dog was that Mulder didn't shake the water off.

 

      “I knew you’d find this funny,” he grinned and narrowed his eyes. “Oh, and the boy is safe by the way.”

      “I was confident you’d help him. Let me go grab some towels.”

 

When she came back from the bathroom, Mulder had taken off his tee, sweater, pants and shoes.

 

      “Drop the boxers too,” she said. He narrowed his eyes and she shrugged. “Fine, fool yourself and keep them on, Mulder.”

      “I wond—” Before Mulder could finish his sentence, a loud noise that sounded like a big amount of water slashing and metal clashing cut him off. “Now what?”

 

They walked hastily to the window and cupped their hands over their eyes to peer outside, foreheads stuck to the window. It was too dark to see anything outside. And then, as another violent bolt of lightning tore through the landscape Mulder and Scully took their hands off their faces and stepped back in awe. They stared at each other as if in confirmation that it had just happened, needing a second to process what had just been revealed before their eyes during the brief flash of lightning.

The next lightning bolt confirmed their eyes had not been tricked: a little plane had just crashed into the water right in front of their lighthouse.


	2. A Rescue

Without a word or a second thought, Mulder rushed away outside. Scully started over to the living room to get ahold of flashlights. She wasn't even sure they would be of any use. The plane seemed quite far off. She would have used the car to light up the river if it wasn't parked so far away. But she knew she had a flashlight in her bag, and it was worth trying. If only she could remember where Mulder had put their bags.

After a few minutes of vain searching, the candles not giving off enough light for her to spot their errant bags, she gave up and went outside empty-handed.

Every brilliant stabbing of the sky was instantly followed by a loud crack. She only had a few seconds each time using the bright flash of lightning to comprehend what was going on. And there was nothing for her to do but hope Mulder could tell east from west. As she looked sideways, she realized that the whole area had gone dark. Although there probably weren't a lot of houses around, the blackout was thorough. The motor of the plane had gone silent since it had sank deeper under the surface. She could hear voices or screams but the sounds of the rain and wind, of the splashing waves and seagulls’ screams, made it difficult if not impossible to tell which one was Mulder’s.

Eventually she spied him reaching the shore, helping a woman to swim by his side. Scully walked down the deck and lent a hand to help the woman out of the water. Mulder barely caught his breath and went back in the water, swimming toward the plane again.

 

When the two women were inside, Scully handed the young woman a towel from the pile she had gathered moments before for Mulder. The woman, young and thin, in her early thirties, was in shock. Scully listened to the few words she managed to say. With hesitation, the woman stated there were just two of them travelling in the plane, the other person being her brother. Her breathing was quickened and short from swimming and most likely the shock of the accident itself. Scully waited impatiently for the young woman to string her next sentence together. But then, when nothing came, she decided she would chat with her later when she would have gotten her head on straight. Scully excused herself and darted out again. Lightning flashed around her again and thunder rumbled. She was now just as soaked as if she’d been in the water herself but she didn't have to wait a lot longer to see Mulder helping a man out of the water.

 

***

Still wearing only his boxers, Mulder took a dry towel and wrapped it around his bare shoulders. The rescued couple was sitting on the floor by the window, trembling in their soaked clothes and wrapped in towels. Scully pointed to the door of the bathroom.

 

      When they disappeared inside, she turned to Mulder. “Are you okay?”

      “Yeah,” he breathed. He put his hands on his knees and bent down to catch his breath.

      “Nice idea of a vacation, Mulder,” she joked as she affectionately stroked the towel over his back.

      He looked up at her and smiled. “This was actually _not_ what I had planned. Phew. Why isn't there a chimney in this house? These candles are really sweet but not too warm.” She smiled and nodded. He stood upright and stepped closer to her to hug her. “You’re going to catch a cold, Scully.” Her face tucked into Mulder’s chest, she absently looked over to the bathroom where they could hear muffled voices. “Do you think they’re arguing about their ruined honeymoon?” Mulder asked, following her gaze.

      “She said he was her brother, so I doubt it. But she does seem pissed.” She shivered.

      “Well, that’s … understandable.” He pulled back a little to look at her as he felt her shaking under his hands. He trapped her damp hair behind her ear. “Scully, you’re shaking,” he said, taking the towel off his shoulders. “Get out of these clothes and take this, I’m dry now anyway.”

 

Scully got out of her long jersey and black blouse, shyly looking toward the bathroom where they could still hear voices. Mulder stepped away to block the view if the couple were to open the door at this moment. When she was in just her bra and underwear, she wrapped the towel around her back and tied it over her chest. Mulder put his towel over her shoulders.

 

      “You look amazing, Scully,” he said with a gaze of total admiration at her pregnant body. “But we need bigger towels,” he joked with a pointed look at her belly protruding out front. She opened her mouth to complain, but indeed, at least _she_ needed wider towels. “Let me see if I can find my phone to get these people out of here.”

 

He kissed her cheek and walked toward the back of the room. She heard a knock on a chair or another piece of furniture followed by Mulder’s grumbling. He had just hit something with his foot. Although lightning and thunder still punctuated the night, giving them a very brief moment of bright light every once in a while, it was very dark inside the house, thusly lit with only a few decorative candles. To steer clear of breaking a toe, she trod warily toward the bathroom.

 

      “You okay in there?” She asked, knocking gently on the bathroom door.

      “Yeah, thanks, we’ll be out in a minute.”

      “It’s out of service,” Mulder said at her back. “But, hey!” He switched on his flashlight and steered its ray upward his face. He hadn’t meant to scare her but she recalled some Christmas night in a haunted house a couple of years ago. “Look what I found. I took the liberty of digging into your bag (lights off, didn’t peek) and got yours too.” He handed it to her and she switched it on too. “I can’t believe you brought it.”

      “I know you too well, Mulder.”

      “Argh.”

      “No, it’s not entirely true. It was supposed to be for nighttime emergencies.”

      Mulder smiled and nodded approvingly. “Okay. I’ll drive them into town when they’re ready,” he said as he put on a clean pair of jeans.

      “No need to wear those and get them soaked too.”

      He pointed his finger to her as if to say “Good point” and dropped them on the couch.

 

The door to the bathroom opened and the couple exited. They, too, were wrapped in towels, holding their wet clothes in their hands. They were now all wearing exclusively underwear in this house. The whole situation would have been funny if they had been old friends. But now Scully was just anxious to get in a hot tub and get back to a _holiday_.

 

      “Hi, we didn’t have time to get properly introduced. I’m Mulder and this is Scully.”

      “Thank you again for your help,” the man said, gratefully shaking Mulder’s hand. “My name’s Joe and this is my sister Jane. The hot water’s all yours if you’d like,” he said looking at Scully.

      “Oh yes, I will definitely do that.”

      “Do you have a phone?” Joe asked. “I have to inform a few people of what happened before they start looking for us.”

      “Unfortunately it’s out of service. What happened out there?” Mulder asked, waving his thumb toward the windows.

      “I guess we got struck by a thunderbolt. One second we were up and flying, and the next we were in the river. That was my first emergency landing on water. Hopefully the last one too.”

      Mulder nodded. “Can I drive you into town or would you rather have something to eat?” Mulder asked. “Or drink?” He smiled.

      “If it’s all the same to you, we wouldn’t mind going now.”

      “Yeah, no problem.” They started walking toward the entrance door. “I’ll be right back,” Mulder said to Scully.

      “Okay. Well, good luck,” she said to the siblings.

 

As Mulder, Joe and Jane walked outside in the storm again, the wind whistled and whipped up inside, blowing out most of the candles. Scully let them be. If she and Mulder were to spend the evening out of electricity, they might as well start saving the little light they had. She closed the bathroom door behind her and used her flashlight to find the shower. The unrest rapidly drained from her as water started running down in the tub and a nice, hot steam filled the room.

 

      “Scully, guess what!” Mulder yelled outside the bathroom door. Scully thrusted her head through the door and flashed her light toward the entrance to see Mulder back with Joe and Jane. “The car is dead, too,” he said, blocking the bright light of her torch with his hand.

      “You’re kidding. How?” She asked.

      “The motor probably drowned.”

      “We’re sorry again,” Jane said.

      “Oh no, don’t worry, it’s okay,” Scully replied politely. “But I’m still taking a bath.”

 

She re-entered the bathroom thinking to herself it was actually _not_ okay. Mulder knocked at the door the next second.

 

      “Are there any more clean towels?” He whispered. “Hmm, the weather’s a lot nicer in here.” he said, sliding inside the small room and closing the door. He kept his hands on the handle at his back.

      “Not many, I’m afraid.”

      “Then I’ll just dry off out here and watch you take your bath,” he said. “Let them get the hint we want them out of here.”

      “We do?”

      “Well, I’m sure the idea had crossed your mind that we’re going to have to share dinner.”

      She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him. Her flashlight was lying on the sink, flashing in the mirror and it gave the room just enough light for them to see each other’s faces. “I’ll save you my share,” he smiled.

      “Thank you but I think I’ll survive.”

      “It's okay; I told you I didn't expect anything but fresh air, salted water and making love. I believe I got the two first alright.”

 

Her chin was still lifted up at him and she smiled. He looked intently at her and then he cupped her face with both hands and leaned down to kiss her. She stretched upward to meet him halfway.

 

      “I’m glad that you’re finally relaxing, Scully,” he said. He pulled back to get a better look at her, furrowing his brows. “You are relaxing, right?”

      “So, that _was_ to keep me out of the Bureau?”

      “Absolutely not,” he said as if he was offended. “I wanted to spend valuable time with you.”

      “Sucker,” she snapped. “Valuable time, Mulder? If I wasn't soaked to the bone, I’d say I was almost semi-moist.”

      “Hmm,” he said with longing.

      She frowned. “Get out, Mulder, go take care of our _guests_ ,” she replied, turning him around by his shoulders.

      “You sure you don't want me to soap up your back.” She smiled and gently pushed him away, lunging forward against him to open the door. “I’m sure you can't even reach your calf,” he mocked over his shoulder, “I can help with that too, you know. I’m an excellent soap-applier.”

      “Out,” she smiled. And she closed the door.

 

***

 

After they shared a quick and silent dinner, they all settled down for the night. The power had not come back on. The rain was still drumming hard outside against the windows. But at least everyone was dry now. Mulder and Scully had layered up and lent some clothes to Joe and Jane. Scully’s were too big for Jane but it would do for the night. Mulder and Scully walked upstairs, taking a couple of candles along, while Joe and Jane had been _invited_ to sleep on the couch. It was not like there were a lot of options since there was only one bedroom.

Mulder sat at the edge of the bed and gazed at Scully as she rummaged in her bag for something to wear for the night. He took his flashlight and helped her out by lighting her bag. His eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth slid upwards. Enjoying the little show, he braced himself on his left hand, leaning backward a little. Even in this situation, Scully was careful not to unfold her clothes. Her search was meticulous, scientific and patient.

 

      “You know, you don't need to wear anything, Scully. Just saying.”

      She looked at him and smiled. Uncomfortably thus bent down to her bag, she eventually sat on the floor and crossed her legs, pulling the bag on her lap. “I’ll find them.”

      “You were a whole more … bold and audacious earlier with me.”

      “We were alone earlier,” she replied wistfully.

      “I see no one else in the room.” He shifted his weight up and down, slightly adjusting his butt on the mattress. “And the bed looks really comfy.”

      “Ha, finally,” she said, gloriously grabbing her satin pajamas and ignoring his comment.

      Mulder dropped the light on the bed and got to his feet to help her. He pulled her up with both hands. “Well, I’m not …” He began as he pulled over his head the three layers he had been wearing, “… wearing anything tonight, Scully.”

      She smiled. “Mulder, you won't have to get up every other hour to go downstairs to the bathroom.”

      “That bad, huh?”

      “That bad, Mulder.”

      “Well, you know what? I’m very compassionate: wake me up every other hour.”

      She snorted a laughter. “I won't. I know too well how difficult it is for you to find your sleep.”

      “It’s never been when we’ve shared a bed,” he said simply and honestly. She suddenly felt blessed, remembering the coldness that once had been between them after he had miraculously returned from the dead, and tears rolled down her face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, wiping the tears away. He cupped her face and bent his knees to level his face with hers.

      “I’m sorry, it’s those stupid hormones,” she sobbed with a tentative smile. “I’m just happy to have you back.”

      “You’re … _happy?”_ He raised his brows, half relieved, half worried, and she giggled between tears. “Come here,” he said yearningly. He walked backward as he took her hands again. He sat on the edge of the bed with her on his lap and he gently pushed away some strands of hair, gazing at her.

      “I’m sorry,” she said. “I feel stupid.”

      “Why?”

 

As a response, she sandwiched his face with her hands and leaned closer to kiss him. He hugged his hands around her back, pressing her chest against his. Thus sitting, the height difference was invisible. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her face to deepen the kiss, gaining passion. Their tongues chased one another in a long warm kiss that soon left them short of breath. His hands slid up to her skull, his fingers interlacing through her hair, and he pulled back her head, nudging it aside tenderly. He kissed her jawline, her neck, the crook of her collarbone. His lips and his hot breath burned her sensitive skin and her breasts swelled, begging for contact. She stroked his hair, pressing his face against hers, and she bit her lip to keep herself from moaning and whimpering. She could feel his erection already hardening against her thigh.

 

      “Mulder,” she breathed. He kept kissing her, licking his way down the valley of her breasts. “Mulder, we gotta stop,” she groaned, pulling back his head with a handful of his hair.

      “Why?” He asked softly, crestfallen and catching his breath.

      “There are other people in this house,” she whispered.

      “So?” He leaned in to linger against her cheek with his lips next to her ear.

      “I can't be silent,” she whispered again, kissing him back on the cheek.

      “I couldn’t care less,” he kissed her again, “I want you,” he murmured in her ear, trapping the lobe of her ear between his teeth.

 

He pulled back to look at her. The flashlight was at her back, so it was very hard to see her expression but their eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room. Tears were threatening to fall again. He saw it in spite of the soft smile on her face. Therefore he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. But unexpectedly, she pushed all her weight on him. He fell on his back on the mattress and she dived in to kiss him again, straddling him and rolling to his side in a more comfortable position.

 

      “I’m warning you again, Mulder: this will be noisy.”

      “And I’ll say it again, I don't give a damn. It turns me on,” He said, sliding his hand underneath her shirt on her belly and moving up to her breasts. “Let’s make them so uncomfortable by having loud sex that they’ll want out of here.”

      “Shut up and kiss me before I change my mind or start crying again,” she said, grabbing the back of his head.

 

***

 

When Scully woke up, two hours had passed since the time they fell asleep. As ever lately, she was lying on her side. She felt Mulder’s arm behind her neck against her pillow, his hand loosely falling on her shoulder. The storm seemed to have let up, and a peaceful silence had fallen upon the house again. Only the wind whistled and whispered now and then as it tried to make its way through the windows. The room was lit by the moon filtering through the windows. Shortly after she remembered where they were, Scully gazed at Mulder sleeping on his back. The thought of how his arm would be numb when he woke up made her smile. Or maybe it was her sense of blissfulness that made her smile. Or the sight of this beautiful man by her side. In any case, she had to go to the bathroom. Again.

She slowly and cautiously propped herself up on her arms, thanking God that the mattress was quieter than it was last night, and got out of the bed. When she was up, completely naked, she stilled and gazed a little more at Mulder, already missing the warmth emanating from his body. His breathing was slow and full. She smiled again softly. Yes, it was him that brought this smile to her face. His presence, his strength, his attention. His love.

She took her flashlight on the nightstand and looked at her watch. 1:34. It really was every other hour, she thought. But even if she wouldn't say no to a night snack, how could she ever wake this man, thus peacefully sleeping?

She put her pajamas on and tiptoed outside the bedroom. In spite of how cautious she was walking down the stairs, the creak of a stair broke the silence and made her stop. Subconsciously, she switched off her flashlight and strained to hear as she made a mental note to avoid the sixth stair the next time she went downstairs. There was a noise of shifting; she had probably awaken Joe or Jane in the couch, she figured. From the staircase, she didn't have a view of the lower floor. As she continued down the stairs, there was another noise, a bit louder, like a door or a window silently closing. She kept descending a few steps, wondering if they were still up.

 

      “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” She whispered blindly as she reached the living room.

 

No answer.

She switched on her flashlight and covered half of the light with her palm, directing it to her feet, and walked silently to the bathroom. Once inside, she had the impression of hearing muffled voices but she discarded the idea. Maybe it was just crickets or the wind or water lapping underneath the deck of the house for all she knew.

 

Mulder was still sound asleep when she returned to the room. She laid on her back and closed her eyes, perplexed.

 

      “Uggh, clothes …” She heard at the same time she felt Mulder’s hand lingering on her stomach.

 

She looked at him. His eyes were still closed and he hadn't moved from the position she last saw him when she went downstairs. He opened his eyes and rolled to his side, holding his head in his hand, his arm bent.

 

      “I’m surprise you still have blood in that arm, Mulder.”

      “It prickles a little.”

      She smiled, then rolled to her side, turning her back toward him, and said, “Go back to sleep, Mulder.”

      He scooted closer, laying his hand on her hip and buried his face in the crook of her neck where he kissed her. “You sure? You don't want to keep our downstairs neighbors awake all night instead?”

      She chuckled and raised her hand to stroke the nape of his neck from behind. “No,” she said, bringing her arm back in front of her.

      “Something wrong?”

      “No,” she said again reassuringly. “Get some sleep, Mulder.”

 

He slid closer, kissed her cheek and spooned her from behind after lifting up the comforter on both of them.

 

***

 

Being pregnant, it was as easy to fall asleep as it was to wake. Again, a few hours later, Scully awoke. It had started raining again, and no light penetrated the mist anymore. The room was once more plunged into darkness of the night without the moon beaming throughout the windows. Four o’clock, her wristwatch read. Her nights were longer than ever.

As she walked downstairs, she didn’t hear suspicious sounds this time. But it was also more difficult to tell as the wind was not whispering anymore but howling. Yet Scully had the strange sensation that it was colder than it should have been. Maybe it was because she had just been glued to Mulder. Or maybe a window had opened. She decided to check that after she went to the bathroom.

She exited the bathroom for the second time that night and closed the door quietly. She walked around the dining room table and glared slightly at the couch. She moved the beam away as she saw the two shapes deeply sleeping and kept going toward the window. As she checked it, she reasoned to herself that it was closed and there was nothing unusual going on. That chilly feeling was probably due to sleeping against Mulder. She nodded to herself and crossed to the stairs. But as she did, she felt water under her feet. Startled, she stopped and directed the light down. A trail of spilt water went from the entrance door toward the middle of the room where it then dwindled to little drops. They led her back into the bathroom. There, Scully noticed for the first time, the wet towel that laid on the floor.

 

She laid on the bed again, wondering if Mulder would wake once more. Was she just imagining things? Would their shipwrecked guests have gone outside at night? And why? Why else would there be water on the floor? No plausible answer came to mind.

 

      “Mulder,” she whispered, lightly caressing his shoulder.

      “Hey,” he answered sleepily, “what’s wrong?”

      “I don't know.”

 

After she shared her doubts with him, they discussed whether or not to go downstairs and check what was going on. But as Joe and Jane were seemingly sleeping, Mulder decided that he would instead stay awake and keep watch from their bedroom. He sat up on the bed, resting his back against pillows stacked up against the headboard. He reassured her that, even if he didn't have an explanation as to why they had gone outside, there was probably nothing to worry about. Scully thanked him and tried to find sleep again. But instead, she wondered if her discovering the water on the floor had been noticed, if they had heard her come down twice. She was almost positive they had at least the first time. Would they know she was suspicious that something was going on? During dinner or when they had introduced themselves, at no time had they talked about being FBI agents. She needed to think of something else or she would never be able to fall back to sleep tonight. Uncomfortable, she fidgeted on the bed.

 

      “Do you want me to throw them out?” He joked, his voice low as a whisper. “If you can't sleep because of them, I will.” She smiled in the dark and scooted closer to him, pillowing her head on his lap. He gently caressed her back. “What could we possibly do to help you relax and think of something else, I wonder?” He said, running his fingertips up and down her arm. She chuckled. “Exhaustion?” He leaned over and lingered his palm on her butt. “Lamaze yoga? Or a massage maybe.” His hand remained where it was and he massaged there. “I mean … if neither of us can sleep …”

      “You give pregnancy cravings too much credit, Mulder.”

      “Only trying to help here,” he said. “But if I’m not …” He took his hands off of her and slid his butt down the mattress, collapsing on his back and laying Scully’s head on his bare chest.

      Scully smiled and lifted herself up on her elbow. “That is what you were about to say when that boy showed up, isn't it, Mulder?”

      “What?”

      “About pregnant women?” He turned his head to her, encouraging her to continue. “I’m no nymphomaniac, Mulder,” she admitted in an apologetic tone. “I have no raging hormones.”

      “Damn!” He sighed in mock frustration. Then he smiled and cupped her cheek with his palm. “It’s okay, I’ll keep you anyway.”

 

As he thumbed her cheek, Scully turned her face and sucked his thumb, and Mulder sucked in his breath.

 _Thump!_ A heavy noise was heard from outside the room.

 

      “Now, I'm still imagining things?” Scully asked.

      Mulder stood and took the flashlight. He directed it outside through the window and downward on the deck. As he didn't see anything he slipped on his pants and walked to the door.

      “What are you doing?” Scully whispered, alarmed.

      “Checking on the Does.”

      “Do you have a gun?”

      “No, I didn't take it. Did you?”

      “Mulder, of course I didn't.”

      “It’s probably nothing. Stay here,” he said as he exited.

      “Mulder, —” she urged. But he had already walked out and she heard the creak of the sixth stair.

 

She grabbed the flashlight on his nightstand and switched it on. She opened the door just enough to thrust her shoulders through it and glared at the stairs, straining to hear.

 

      “What's going on here?” Mulder’s voice was calm but demanding. Jane said something Scully didn't understand and she heard Mulder again. “Try me.”

 

Although he didn't yell, his voice echoed throughout the little house, muffled only by the drumming of the rain on the rooftop. Scully opened the door completely, deciding to help Mulder out, when she heard another _Thump!_ Except this one was different, louder. It sounded like a body heavily falling down on a hardwood floor.


	3. Lighthouse Hostages

      “Go back to your room,” Joe coldly ordered to Scully as he caught sight of her on the staircase. Scully had no idea where it had come from but Joe now had a gun.

      “Where’s Mulder?” She asked anxiously as she scanned the dim room. She sighted the immobile body on the ground. “I’m a medical doctor, let me have a look at him.”

      “Go back upstairs and lock yourself in your room.”

      “Please, let —”

      “DO IT!” He yelled, nervously waving his gun erratically.

 

Scully jumped out of her skin and slowly stepped backward on the upper stair. As she went up again to the next step she took in the room. Jane was at the back of the room, silent and standing still. Mulder — if it was him lying on the floor, which she had to assume it was — was motionless.

 

      “Jane, get up there and go lock that room,” he said harshly.

 

Scully walked reluctantly back into the bedroom as Jane arrived to take the old key on the other side of the door.

 

      “Jane, tell me what his condition is,” Scully pleaded, laying her hand on Jane’s.

      “He’s going to be okay, he’s just been knocked on the head,” she replied quietly, averting her eyes.

      “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?” Her eyes still downcast, Jane slowly started to pull the door to her. “Jane, wait. Look at me,” Scully tried again. For a second, she thought about pulling the we’re-FBI-agents card but she backed up at the last second. A threat wouldn't probably do them any good at that point. “I’m pregnant. I’m sure you’ve heard me coming and going tonight. I can't stay here. Don't do this.”

      “I’m sorry,” she said as she closed the door.

 

Scully heard the key turn in the lock, sealing her in the dim room. She put her hands on the door and leaned her ear against it. She heard the creak. Jane had probably reached the living room by now. Scully wished she could hear a sign, a voice, anything that would tell her Mulder was fine. She bent down on her knees and stuck her ear onto the floor. She listened for a moment. Her eyes, wandering errantly in the dark room, fell on her opened bag and a hint of hope brightened her eyes. She grabbed it, sliding it to her, and rummaged through her stuff with less carefulness than previously until she found her phone. But the hope she had vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she read “No signal” on the digital screen.

She stood and walked to the window, and she threw it open. She bent over, trying to peek at the lower floor. Her round belly hung heavy over the window frame, and she sighed. Her hands gripped the frame harder, leaving her knuckles white. She looked upward at the widow’s walk. The lenses were still off, as was the rest of the coast from what she could see. She hastily closed the window and took the few steps that led to the stairs from the bedroom to the upper glass tower.

As soon as she went outside on the walk, the wind swept up her hair and whipped her face. She shivered as large raindrops blew against her pajamas and she stepped quickly back inside, defeated, and feeling trapped like a lion in a cage.

She needed a plan, an idea, anything. She needed to think. She remembered Mulder saying something about the boy who brought them dinner. Was he supposed to come back for breakfast? She couldn’t get her mind straight … Even if he was coming back, that wouldn't be for a few hours. She wondered if she could escape her prison by climbing down. Some way.

But it was predawn, for one. For two, she didn’t have Mulder’s car keys. And above all things, in her condition, even if she did manage to get out of this house, she couldn’t walk far afterward. The best option was for the boy to actually show up in a couple of hours. Maybe she could warn him before he knocked at the door and send him for backup. _A couple of hours_ , she repeated to herself. She frowned and sighed with frustration and anger. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples as she sat on the edge of the bed. What didn’t she see? What could she be doing other than worrying? She felt a kick inside her belly and gently laid her palm on the spot. She really was not in her best condition to venture a rescue.

She heard a door open on the lower floor. And since there was only one, she knew it was the bathroom. Nervous, she spread out her arms, trying to mentally visualize where it was located if she was to stand above it and moved to Mulder’s nightstand. She kneeled and listened intently. There was a soft muffled groan. Mulder’s.

 

      “Mulder,” she said softly throughout the wooden flooring, quietly knocking her knuckles.

 

If there was an answer, she didn't hear it. But when she heard pounding on the door, she knew it was him and sighed with relief. Only, if he kept running at it with his shoulder first, he’d certainly end up dislocating his shoulder rather than the door.

 

      The door opened and Scully heard Joe yell, “Knock it off!” It was followed by the sound of something heavy falling on the floor. Was it Mulder again? Joe?

      “Stop!” Jane screamed.

 

Now there was someone running up the stairs. Her heart began beating faster. She slowly stood and grabbed the nightstand lamp, raising it above her shoulder, readying herself to throw it toward her assailant. The key turned in the door.

 

      “Scully, come on,” Mulder stormed in.

 

She let the lamp fall on the nightstand and rushed at the door. He took her hand and they started to the stairs in the dark. Her heart startled with anguish when she heard the creak before they had reached the top of the stairs. Someone was there.

 

      “Go back in there.”

 

Mulder stopped and Scully felt him wavering at Jane’s calm voice. She squeezed his hand in silent question but instead of squeezing back he took a step back.

 

      “Good. That’s good. Keep going,” Jane said. “We won't hurt you if you stay there. And we’ll be gone before you know it.”

 

Scully looked anxiously at Mulder, not understanding his state of relinquishment. They walked back inside the room, Mulder sat on the bed and Jane locked them back in. He was staring at nothingness as though he was possessed. Lightly, Scully ran her fingers through his hair and then kneeled in front of him, her hands on his lap.

 

      “Mulder,” she said quietly. He seemed unresponsive. “Mulder,” she tried again a little louder, stroking her palm on his forehead. She considered slapping him but she snapped her fingers in front of his eyes instead.

      He blinked and vaguely stared at her as if he had just been woken up.

      “What the hell happened?” She blew out, bewildered.

      “I … don't know.”

 

As Scully narrowed her eyes and nodded, they both tilted their heads to a low roar. The lighthouse lantern was on. Scully quickly walked to the door and flicked on and off the light switch. The power was back. Good. One less thing to worry about. She switched the light on for good and looked at Mulder as he thrashed his back on the bed, sighing heavily and hiding his face in his hands.

Scully sat on the edge of the bed and laid her hand on his arm, looking at him in silence for a moment. His eyes closed, he bent his arms over his forehead. He seemed completely lost. And she was a bit confused about what was wrong with him too.

 

      “Does it hurt? Anywhere?”

      He opened his eyes and turned his face to her. He didn't say anything at first, mentally going through his body, then he shook his head no.

      She nodded and took her time getting to the next question. “How do you feel?”

      He looked at where her hand was on his arm and he took it. Then he looked back at her. “I feel fine,” he said slowly, obviously trying to be reassuring.

      “Okay, so how _did_ you feel? Why did you step back?”

      “I believe it was her … voice.”

      “Her voice?”

      He considered it and remained silent, thinking. “There’s something about her voice,” he said after a moment.

      “I didn't hear anything special.”

      He shrugged. “I did.”

 

As she was still trying to understand, Mulder stared at her intently. His breathing slowly started to turn into a pant and his eyes, dark, betrayed a sudden lascivious hunger. He sat upright with a start and cupped her face, leaning forward and hovering over her lips with his. She shivered as his unruly tongue dove deep into her mouth, pressing inward and swirling hers around.

 

      She pulled back. “What are you doing?”

      “What?” He breathed. “You want me to turn the lights off?” He joked and leaned forward again.

      “Mulder, it’s not funny,” she snapped, pulling back again and standing. “What’s with you?”

      “What? Nothing!”

 

He sighed and fell back on the mattress. Suddenly, he whimpered. He grabbed a pillow and rolled to his side, pressing the pillow over his head. “… her stop, Scu—” was all that she understood but his behavior started to worry her deeply.

She bent over the mattress and uncovered his face, asking him to repeat what he had said.

 

      “Make her stop,” he repeated, covering his head again.

      “Who? What?” She asked softly. “I don’t understand,” she whispered as he was pressing the pillow harder against his ear. She stroked his hand, kneeled on the bed closer to him and tried to take the pillow away. “What’s going on, Mulder?”

      He pulled the pillow off of his head and looked at her intently for another moment. She stared back, questioning his eyes. “You know these raging hormones we talked about?” He asked. She furrowed her brows and nodded. “I think they’re mine now. Make her stop, Scully.”

      “Make her stop doing _what_ , Mulder?”

 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he covered one ear with his hand, pressing the other against the mat, and he curled up, his knees bent all the way up to his chin, all tensed and seemingly aching. Scully had no idea what was going on. She emphatically patted his shoulder and crossed to the door. She laid her ear against it for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. She listened. Yes, maybe there was a humming but it was barely audible. Was that what was giving Mulder such an ordeal? She looked back at him. He was curled into a tight ball, his arm pressing hard vertically across his head.

 

      “Mulder?” She said softly, her hand on his shoulder.

 

He opened his eyes. He stared at her. Hungry. His breathing was short and shallow. She stroked his shoulder and arm, trying to relax him. But he clenched his jaw and swallowed. He shut his eyes firmly closed and curled himself up tighter.

 

      She squeezed his hand over his ear and lifted it gently. “Mulder, tell me where it’s hurting.”

      He kept his eyes closed, clenched his jaw again, and brought the hand that gripped his to his inner thighs. When her hand was on his erection he opened his sorrowful eyes to her. “I don't want to do something I’ll regret.” She almost dropped her mouth open. That, she had not anticipated. How did he get so aroused? So suddenly?

 

      “Make her stop,” he whispered again.

      “Jane?” She said softly. He nodded, let go of her hand and pulled his knees impossibly closer to his chest. “How can you even hear her?” She asked as she urgently got to her feet and began to thread her way to the door.

      “I believe she’s … some kind of a … siren.”

      She was about to pound on the door but she was taken aback. “Mulder, —” She began to argue.

      “Take a look outside,” he breathed between gritted teeth.

      She grabbed the flashlight and opened the window. Her eyes grew with disbelief when she looked down at the deck and she instantly turned to Mulder. “How did you know??”

      “I heard them.”

      A look of total astonishment crossed her face and she said, “You heard that too!?”

      “Yes,” he whispered.

      Scully looked down again. All around the house, as far as the beam of her light would go, hundreds of crabs were gathering. “This can be a coincidence, Mulder. Because of the storm or —”

 

Mulder groaned at her back.

She closed the window and knocked as hard as she could at the door with her lamp. She screamed and called out Joe and Jane’s names, which obviously were not their real names. Mulder whimpered and contorted with pain or frustration or the anguished self-control of holding himself back and twisted into a new position. His knees were now on the mattress and his whole body was curled into himself around them, both his hands dramatically covering his ears. She couldn't believe they were stuck in the middle of an X-File. There had to be a scientific explanation for all of this.

 

      She gripped the Maglite and kicked it at the door again. “Jane! Open this damn door!”

 

      As Mulder wailed, she went back to him and gently stroked his back. “Let me help you,” she whispered.

      “Scully, get away from me,” he said harshly, not moving from his position, save for swaying his head back and forth deeper into the mattress.

      “Mulder, I —”

      All of the sudden, Mulder rose on his knees and grabbed Scully’s wrists. They were both on their knees, facing one another. He looked at her intently, leaned forward and regained self-control as she stared back. “I don't want to do this. This isn't me. This isn't how I feel. So, step back,” he said, letting go of her wrists and curling himself up again.

      “I don't fear you, Mulder,” she said softly keeping her position.

      “Scully, get out of here!” He cried out in a plea. She gently touched his back again and he jumped. He gripped the nape of her neck with both hands and pulled her forehead to his. “Please.” He was like a magnet trying to ignore its overpowering attraction.

      Softly, she laid her hand on his sex over his pants.

      “Don't … do this …” He shook his head, closed his eyes and tightened his jaw. His hands gripped harder at the back of her neck. “I can't …”

      As she rubbed her hand over his pants, her chest swelled. “It’s me, Mulder. Even if I didn't ignite this, I can ease it out.” He opened his eyes, staring right back at her. His breathing was quick and shallow. “Be gentle. Come down.” She leaned in and brushed his cheek with her lips. “I trust you, Mulder.” She slowly opened the zipper of his pants. “I know you trust me too.”

 

Mulder took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. He was granite-hard under her hand. His mouth caught hers and she immediately opened for him. He pushed her back onto the bed and trapped her between his arms as he bent down with her, his mouth literally glued to hers and his erection pulsing hard against her hip. All his senses seemed opened to her; he inhaled her deeply, touched her body and was trembling as he felt her breathing. She tried to keep contact with him, to soothe him down but he had pinned one of her wrist against the mattress and her other hand couldn’t pass her belly. He moved his knees so that he was positioned between her legs, arching his back and pressing against her center. One of his hands left the mattress and shaped between her opened thighs. She shushed him down, tenderly caressing his chest and neck. His mouth ravished every inch of her body, from mouth to jaw, to neck, to breasts. He impatiently flicked open every button of her pajamas top and buried his face in her breasts, kissing her with a ferocity she had never witnessed, while his hand was still working on her center. He groaned with anticipation.

 

      As he caught her nipple between his teeth, she cupped his face and tilted it up to her, “Gently, Mulder,” she whispered.

 

She knew what he wanted. What he needed. He needed to be buried deep inside her. He was trying to get his feelings under control, but he wanted to strip her naked, pin her under his weight and drive himself into her, hard and deep. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen.

 

      “I’m sorry,” he struggled, his voice raspy with concern and warring desire. His breathing hard and his sex subconsciously thrusting against her, he dropped his head over her shoulder with an effort to be cautious with the baby.

      “Let me,” she said.

 

Her palm shaped over his burning-hot stomach and she pushed him back slightly. Then she slipped it underneath her PJ pants and began to stroke herself, closing her eyes.

Mulder composed himself and straightened up, watching and groaning. Then he caressed her breasts with one hand and stroked his sex up and down with the other. Without taking his eyes off her, he quickly stepped out of the bed to take off his pants, and then he returned next to her. After a moment, she sensually rolled to her side, keeping her legs opened and enjoying herself. Mulder pulled her out of her pants and bent down to taste her wetness. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing coming out in little puffs. Her hands tangled in his hair and pressed him even closer to her as he sucked her clit and licked her arousal, making her moan. His breath huffed against her as he slowly pressed his tongue into her, swirling around the tiny lump, stretching her open and aroused. She wanted to but she knew that if she put him in her mouth, he would be done. And that was not what he wanted, obviously. He shifted his fingers inside her while his tongue hungrily worked on her clit. She gasped and arched her back, cradling him between her thighs.

Times lapsed and he rose up for air. He moved up to her face. He kissed her so demandingly and so intensely, she felt like he was eating her alive and she couldn't hold the moan that echoed in his mouth. He pulled back and gasped for air again as if he had been swimming under water for the last ten minutes. “Scully, I want you, I need to —” He panted between breaths and trailed off to nip her mouth again, his eyes fluttering shut and his brows furrowing with overwhelmed pleasure, while she widened her legs and rubbed his length in response.

He pulled back and looked at her with eyes glowing with arousal and desire. They were both panting as hard as if they had already had sex. He regarded her, studying her eyes for a moment. And reading her approval, he jumped to the end of the mat, his knees on the floor. He cupped her thighs and slid her down to the edge with a quick jerk.

He rolled her on her back and positioned himself, never breaking eye contact. Then he took hold of his sex and guided it to her entrance. He rubbed it a couple of times against her clit and wet opening and entered her in one swift and deep thrust. All the way in, he stopped and let out in a long sigh the air he was holding back, dropping his head backward.

 

      “Oh, Scully, this feels so good,” he breathed as he tilted his face back to her. “You okay?” He sought for her eyes.

      “Yeah,” she whispered, reaching her hands for him, “give me your hands.”

 

He grabbed her hands and she pulled herself up to a sitting position with him still inside her. As she asked him to sit down, he pulled out of her and obeyed. He sat on the floor, slid his legs under the bed while she descended onto him, straddling him, holding herself up with her bent elbows on the mattress. He gazed at her with lust and she began to ride up and down on his shaft and he met her thrusts in unison, raising his hips and plunging over and over into her. He licked his thumb and put it over her clit and gently stroked it. She pushed her head back and hegently caressed her belly with his other hand as her PJ top flew open from the vigorous her movements. The rocking made her breathing even heavier and her legs shudder, but as she felt the sweet pressure and pleasure building, she kept going, feeling him deeper and deeper inside her, and she began moaning.

 

      “Aww Scully, slow … slow down,” he breathed, palming her face. “I can't come first.”

 

She didn't listen. In fact it was the opposite. She knew he was close to release and she rode him harder and faster, her ass slapping his thighs in the most arousing music. He called out her name again, pleaded with her to stop and rubbed his thumb faster too. Her soft erotic gasps and moans were his undoing. A long moan filled the room as he thrusted one last time deep into her.

 

      He cupped the back of her head and leaned in to kiss her. Then he cupped her face. “Why? Why did you do that?” He asked, breathing hard.

      “It was not about me,” she said, catching her breath too.

      “That’s … nonsense, Scully.”

 

He pulled her up on the bed and stood. As she slid back up to the pillow, laying on her side, he rested behind her. He pressed his sweaty body against hers and nuzzled the side of her ribcage with his face. She raised her arm to let him thrust his head there. He kissed her upper breast and rested his hand on her hip.

 

      “Was it really just about me?”

      “Well …” That was a tricky question and she didn't know how to answer it.

      “Did you fake?”

      “Mulder, no,” she said, fondling his hair.

      He nodded and then he slid his hand along her thigh.

      “Mulder …”

      “I want you to come,” he whispered. His hand ran down the inside of her thighs and found her pubic bone.

She sucked in a breath. “You don't need to —”

      “Yes, I do,” he cut her off, sinking a finger into her. She gasped. “Relax,” he breathed.

 

He kissed her breast and slid a second finger into her. She thrusted her hips onto his hand, and he pressed his sex still fully erect against her butt. With his other hand, he stroked her back all the way down and squeezed her butt. Her breathing was shallow and rapid as she began to cry out. Mulder freed his head from under her arm and he kissed the back of her shoulder. As she pushed her head backward, he leaned his forehead against her hair, blowing hot breaths against her skin. She arched and spread her legs wider, raggedly panting and moaning as he restlessly stroked her and plunged deeper into her folds with his finger.

She gasped and caught his wrist to stop him as his thumb came to add more delicious friction to her clit.

 

      “Let go,” he whispered sensually in her ear. He continued to massage those spots, both deep inside her and outside, feeling it hardening under his thumb. “Just let yourself go and come for me,” he said, lingering his lips in the crook of her neck.

Her hand remained on his wrist but loosened around it. Mulder accelerated his thrusting and rubbing as she felt herself slide over the edge. “That’s it,” he said, licking and nipping her neck, “let go, Scully.”

His hand that was on her ass slid under her waist and he pulled her against his erection, endlessly fingering her with the other hand. Her hips rocked against his hand. She was moaning more and more. Her chest was swelling and her nipples fully erect when finally a violent scream tore her throat as the familiar intense pleasure rushed through her body. His body stiffened against her back as she shattered, unable to stop her cry of ecstasy as he kept stroking her.

She took his wrist again and wrapped herself with his arm around her chest. He held her close as she trembled from her orgasm aftermath, wrapping her legs with his own.

 

      “Thank you,” he said softly. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. He kissed her jaw and leaned his forehead against her shoulder. “For everything.”

 

He slipped his other hand between the mattress and her neck and enveloped her completely. As she found herself enfolded in loving arms and legs, she closed her eyes and started sobbing. Mulder propped his head up and lightheartedly said, “Dammit!” She smiled and sniffled as he was already straddled her to go and lay down on her other side, in front of her. He laid on his back, pulling the sheets up to her shoulders, and opened his arms to her with a “C'mere” that Scully had heard a thousand and one times in the past and that had always brought peace and comfort to her. She pillowed on his chest and he wrapped his arms protectively around her shoulders, fondling her hair with his chin.


	4. Tale of a siren

It was dawn now, and the storm seemed to have completely pushed away. Scully had been awake for a while. To let Mulder rest, she had gotten out of bed and was now taking in the new day from the widow’s walk. There still were a few crabs on the lower deck, but it was nothing compared to what she had witnessed a few hours earlier.

Memories flashed in her head: The crabs, Mulder’s delusion, his incredible level of arousal, his assumption about a … _siren_. It all seemed like an alternative universe to her. She scoffed at the thought. No reason to believe anything malevolent or paranormal at force here even if for the moment she couldn't prove him wrong. If it weren't for her sore legs, the undeniable evidence of their rough sex, she’d be deciding she had imagined it all. But checking on their bedroom door was the first thing she did once she woke up, and this, at least, she knew to be a fact: they were trapped and they had to do something about it. After testing the door, she had checked their phones and they were still getting no signal.

Yesterday, this isolated lighthouse had seemed the ideal spot to commit to what she and Mulder rarely allowed themselves to enjoy: a break so they could rest and relax. But now … It was all an absolute unsolvable puzzle, complete with tricky and missing pieces. She inwardly shook all negativity from her spirit. If the boy was coming back, he wouldn't be long now. She had to wait.

The orange and pink glow of the sunrise, forcefully contrasting with the opposite shore, still plunged into darkness and gleamed over the river water in a beautiful palette of pastel paints. Today was Sunday, and Scully had figured families would be out sailing. It was a beautiful day now. But there was no one. Not one boat. Even the wretched plane couldn't be seen anymore.

 

Mulder was shifting on the bed when she returned and she sat next to him, waiting for him to wake.

 

      “Hey,” he said quietly. He reached out for her hand and thumbed her knuckles.

      “Hey.” She smiled softly. “How are you feeling?”

      He processed her question a moment, then said, “Was it for real?”

      “It seems like it. Unless you locked us inside this bedroom to fulfill your fantasies.”

      “Scully, —” He began, shamefaced.

      “Hey,” she cut him off, solemn. “No harm done, Mulder; your passion and skills are unrivaled. That was intense.”

      He nodded, taking her in quietly. “It was. I’ll make it up to you.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, thankful. “So? How do we start getting out of here?”

      “That’s a good question. Especially now that I need to use the bathroom.”

      He nodded knowingly. He got up and grabbed his pants from the foot of the bed and she gazed at him as he dressed.

      “So Mulder, about that um, _siren_ stuff?”

      “Yeah?”

      “You do know that they’re a myth, right?”

      “I _think_ I didn't exactly say she was a siren. More that she was some sort of a siren.”

      “And yet she almost drowned in that plane. She’s not a great swimmer.”

      “You’re not fair, Scully, even Dara Torres would have had difficulty swimming after a plane crash. And if you're referring to sirens being half-fish creatures, those are mermaids.” She looked at him, frowning in inquiry, and he explained, “It’s a common mistake: somewhere along the literary road sirens and mermaids got confused and portrayed as one sole character. But mermaids didn't sing. Sirens did. And as for sirens, the mythology shows them as half-bird nymphs.”

      She looked at him with her mouth open to say something. Then her mouth closed and changed into a smile, and she said, “How do you know this stuff, Mulder?”

      He shrugged and continued. “In mythology, sirens were given wings by Demeter, the goddess of fertility, when Persephone, the daughter she had with Zeus, was abducted. She figured wings would help them search for her daughter. They were then cursed for failing to intervene in the abduction.”

      “So, sirens have wings?”

      “Yeah, think of them like The Spirit of Ecstasy, Rolls Royce’s emblem.”

      “Ecstasy, huh? Why didn't it affect me?”

      “Maybe because they are female hybrids and affect men. Maybe because a perfectly pure heart is able it resist it.” She looked at him skeptically and he chuckled. “Did you pay attention to her eyes while we were having dinner?”

      “No, not really. It was so dark anyway.”

      “They were amber. Almost shining like gold. Unreal.” She narrowed her eyes and he smiled again. “Anyway. That is not a color you see every day. How about her necklace? Did you see it?”

      She nodded. “A zither.”

      “Coincidence again?”

      “Mulder, I have a cross around the neck, does it mean I’m descended from God himself?”

      He smiled and went to the window. “Well, I’m glad you stayed your skeptical self while I was away, Scully,” he said without looking at her, looking around to find a way out.

      She leaned back with her arms behind her on the bed. “So, if she _were_ a siren — and I say allegedly — what does she want? And who or _what_ is Joe?”

      “Did you notice these birds, Scully?” He asked, lost in his own interrogations.

      She joined him at the window. “Seagulls. Yes, they’ve been around.”

      “They’re looking for something.”

      “They’re _sea_ birds, Mulder,” she said matter-of-factly, “and we happen to be at the sea.” She started back to the bed.

      He caught her arm. “No, look.” She turned around and looked outside again. “Look at the way they circle around that spot.”

      “Probably spotted food.”

      “Isn't that where the plane crashed?”

      She opened her mouth, frowned and closed her mouth. Why bother? Mulder would have seen anything to make his point. He was just anchoring on anything. “They’re just seagulls, Mulder, just like these are just crabs.” She sat on the bed again.

      Mulder closed the window and leaned against it. “Okay, what’s your theory? What happened to me last night?”

      “I don't know, Mulder, food poisoning, exhaustion from the rescue, fever, or even a head injury from your being knocked out.”

      “That is so you, Scully.” He walked to the steps of the lighthouse tower and turned around at the bottom of the stairs. “So why are they holding us captive?”

      “You tell me.”

      “I believe they lost something in that plane.”

      “Like what?” She said, spinning around on the bed to see him. But Mulder had already gone up. She followed and met him on the widow’s walk. “Like what?”

      “I don't know,” he said, leaning over the baluster, still looking for an exit. “You yourself found water inside the house long after we had gone to bed. You yourself said they had probably gone out. What if they had gone out swimming, Scully?” He stopped searching and looked at her, waiting for her explanation on this.

      “I …” Scully searched her mind. But like the night before, there was nothing logical.

      He leaned over her shoulder, triumphantly grinning. “Tell me you have doubts,” he whispered.

      Quizzical and tight-lipped, she pulled back to look at him, her face inches away from his. “How about they thought they heard a knock at the door? Or one of the shutters opened and they went out to put it back?”

      “Ha!” He chuckled, pulled back further and waved a drop-it hand at her. He walked away.

      “We’re done here?” She called out, following him. “Who won? And how the hell do we get out of this trap?”

      “Working on it!” He called over his shoulder as he reached the bedroom.

 

      She sat on the bed, noisily sighing. “We’re caged,” she despaired.

      “Isn't that a nice image though?” He asked her, slightly smiling. She looked at him with an inquiring eye. He walked over and kneeled in front of her, laying his hands on the mattress by her sides. “I believe this woman is half-bird and yet _we_ are caged.”

      “Cursed lovebirds?” She smiled.

      He nodded appreciatively. “Caged hearts? I wonder if it means something.”

      “Which part?” She asked ironically. “None of this means anything.”

      He smiled and nodded again knowingly.

 

Without a warning sound of footsteps, the door opened suddenly and Joe appeared in its entrance. Mulder stood abruptly and walked over to him. But Joe raised his gun at him and Mulder came to a stop. Scully wondered if Joe had been listening to them, and for how long.

 

      “I figured you’d need to use the bathroom,” Joe said coldly and calmly.

      Scully looked at Mulder, unsure about what to do or to say. Was it some kind of a trick? Divide and conquer?

      “I do too,” Mulder said, reading her eyes and staring back at Joe. “We’re going together.”

      Joe stared at them and nodded his head in approval. “Don't do anything stupid.” He waved his gun to get them moving.

 

      Mulder reached out a hand for Scully, and they started heading for the door. When they were next to Joe, Joe took a step back to prevent his gun from being taken off his hands and said, “Again, don't try anything.”

      “What do you want from us?” Scully asked, strong and fearless, over her shoulder.

      “ _I_ don't want anything from you,” he replied. Then he added in a whisper, “But the same cannot be said by my … sister.”

      “Where is she?” Mulder asked when they had reached the living room.

      “Out.” He pushed them into the bathroom. “Don't waste time,” he said before closing the door.

 

Mulder braced his back against the door while Scully went to the toilet. Out of shyness, she ran the water in the sink to cover the noise. Mulder looked at his feet to give her some privacy.

 

      “So, she went out for a little swim?” He whispered. “I’m telling you, Scully, she lost something in that plane.”

      “Maybe,” she admitted vaguely.

      “How do you feel about running away?”

      “I doubt I’ll get far before he catches me.” She flushed the water and washed her hands. “I figured we could wait for your delivery boy to show up with breakfast.”

      “No, he’s not coming for breakfast. I didn't know what time we’d wake up,” he said, going to the toilet. “I could sneak out from the window using our sheets as a rope or jump down into the river,” he said jokingly.

      “Great idea, especially now that we know Jane is outside,” she replied, bracing her butt against the sink and crossing her arms over her chest.

 

      Joe kicked at the door. “Are you done yet?”

      “Yeah, give us a minute,” Mulder yelled back. “If you can try and block his view so I can grab my car keys unnoticed, that could be a start and then we’ll figure out our next move. They’re on the dresser.”

      “That, I can do,” she whispered with a smile, arching her back and rounding her belly wider as Mulder reached next to her at the sink.

      “We’ll get out of this,” he whispered, washing his hands.

She turned her face to lock her eyes with his. “I know,” she said trustingly.

      “We’re coming out, Joe,” Mulder said as he opened the door.

 

Joe pointed his gun at them. Mulder stepped out first and raised his hands to assure him they wouldn’t try anything. Scully followed. She looked to her left as they started back to the stairs, Joe in their backs.

As they had almost reached the dresser, Scully turned around to Joe.

 

      “How long will you keep us up there?” She asked. “What do you want?”

      “You wouldn't understand.” There was a touch of sorrow in his voice.

      Mulder hastily grabbed the keys, slid them in his pocket and turned around too. “I told you last night: try me. You’d be surprised, Joe.” Joe sighed heavily and looked at them. “She’s cursed, isn't she?” Joe looked intently at Mulder as he continued. “Like _sirens_ were.”

      Scully looked back at Mulder, eyes wide-opened. Did he know where he was stepping there? She looked back at Joe a bit anxious.

      “Who are you, Joe? You’re obviously not her brother.”

      “I am.”

      Mulder tried to read his eyes. But they were unreadable.

      “What won't we understand?” Scully asked gently.

      “You were barren,” Joe said out of nowhere.

      “What!? How do you —?” Taken aback, her voice died away.

      “What does it have to do with you?” Mulder asked, holding back the anguish and anger that grew in his gut.

      “Jane is barren too. Apparently.” He looked at Mulder and pointed his chin to Scully’s belly. “Are you the father?”

      “That’s none of your business.”

      “You know what today is?”

      “Sunday.”

      “It’s Mother’s Day,” Joe said. He turned to Scully. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

      “I’m not —”

 

Scully furrowed her brows and looked at Mulder. She tried to connect the dots but couldn't get a clear picture. This whole conversation was too confusing and she was hoping it was making more sense to Mulder. Calm and emotionless, Joe had his eyes screwed on her.

 

      “What’s in the plane, Joe?” Mulder asked, attempting to refocus the conversation on the Does.

      “Go back to the room now. She’s coming back.”

      “Joe, tell us, we can help.”

      “Go!” He said louder and gripping at his gun tighter.

 

Alone and locked upstairs again, Mulder peeked through the window hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious woman, but Jane was either already inside or nowhere to be seen. Bracing her back against the door, Scully felt uneasy after this conversation. She couldn’t say whether she was scared or just really uncomfortable. Was this all about her or about Mulder? Not to mention, how did Joe know she was barren before? The conversation with Joe had left them silent and questioning. She studied Mulder absently. He was fruitlessly trying to find a way out. If it weren’t for her, she knew he would have already gotten out. One crazy way or another.

 

      “Go, Mulder,” she said quietly.

      Startled, he looked at her. “What?”

      “Get out of here.”

      “What? No!”

      “They obviously don't want anything from me.”

      “How can you be so sure?”

      Truth was she wasn't sure of anything. But what other option did they have? “You’ve got your keys now. Go and get some help. Nothing's going to happen to me.” He looked at her doubtfully. “Mulder, I can take care of myself,” she said firmly, “what I _can't_ do right now is climb down that house.”

      He walked over to her. “You sure?” He whispered, scanning her eyes. She nodded in the affirmative. He seized her belly gently with both hands, looking down at it, then tilted his face up back to her. He leaned over and kissed her.

      “Now get outta here,” she urged him with a confident smile. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Scully went with him as he escaped from the widow’s walk to the roof and then down on the backside of the house when the shutters were closed. He turned back and took a last look at her. She opened her mouth and screamed a silent “Go!” that made him run away.

She paced in the bedroom, figuring that it was better to have Joe hear footsteps than a suspicious silence. At least Mulder was out of here. And rescue on its way, she kept telling herself.

A short moment after, she heard a muffled ringtone. It took her a few seconds to realize it was Mulder’s phone. She hastily moved toward his bag and started digging into it. But before she had grabbed it, the door violently opened. She was kneeling, the phone in her hand, ready to answer, and staring at an angry Joe, his arm outstretched to the door opened wide.

 

      “Give it to me,” he said, reaching his hand out to her.

      She briefly looked at the screen. It read “Frohike.”

      “Don't,” Joe warned.

      She kept eye contact with him and slowly lifted the phone toward him. Then she pressed the green answer button and the ring stopped. Rage immediately engulfed Joe’s face as he bent to grab it faster. “MELVIN, HELP, WE’RE —”

      Joe grabbed the phone out of her hand and slapped her. She fell on her back, hearing Frohike yell back “Scully, where are you?” Joe hung up, looked at the phone and threw it fiercely on the opposite wall, breaking it into pieces. “That was … stupid,” he said. He scanned the room. “Where’s your husband?”

      “He’s not my husband,” she replied, getting back on her feet and rubbing her cheek with her palm.

      “WHERE IS HE?” He asked, running to the window.

      “He’s gone,” she said.

      He looked at her, restraining himself from hurting her again. “Son of a —”

 

He ran toward the door, then stopped next to the bags. He lifted the first, upside down, emptying its contents on the floor, and repeated the operation with the second. He took the second phone and looked at Scully in defiance. Then he walked out and locked the door. Joe’s footsteps resonated in the staircase, then in the living room, and Scully heard the front door open.

She opened the window and bent over, catching sight of Joe just as he ran off at the end of the rail ramp. Her heart started to pound in her chest as she remembered that last night the car hadn't started. She hastened to the glass tower. She didn't even know if she could see where the car had been parked from up there, but that was the only thing she could think of. Her legs gave way the minute she spotted it. The car was there. The car was _still_ there. _Oh, please, Frohike, tell me you could localize that call,_ she thought. She scrutinized the horizon, seeing that Joe had stopped by the car and was doing the exact same thing. There were woods out there. She prayed that Mulder had made it to the road as she tried to recall how far away it was and how deep these scattered trees were.

Suddenly, she saw Jane coming from the house and meeting Joe. She peeked through the car windows and came back to her brother. Although they were far away from Scully, she could tell they were arguing, wavering their arms all around. After a minute, Jane started walking toward the trees. Joe looked at her a moment and trotted back to the house.

The next minute, the door to the bedroom opened and she heard him call her name.

 

      “Scully!” he yelled again. “Come with me,” he said more softly as she appeared at the bottom of the tower stairs. But even if he tried to soften his temper, he still had a gun in his hand.

      “Where?”

      “Downstairs.”

      “Why?”

      “I want to keep an eye on you.”

      “If I were in a condition to escape I wouldn't be talking to you right now,” she said softly but obeying his request.

 

Back in the living room, he asked her to sit at the table. When she did, facing the entrance, he opened the front door and stepped just one foot out, peeking and expecting the return from his sister, the other foot remaining inside, watching closely on Scully. Scully remained silent a moment. Although the situation was different, she couldn't help but remember when she had been held hostage before. Donnie Pfaster, Duane Barry, Jack Willis. A cold ripple ran down her spine and she shivered.

 

      “What do you want, Joe?” She tried.

 

He looked at her briefly but then his gaze returned outside. He was silent. He looked thoughtful. Scully observed him for a while. She knew he had heard her question and she felt he was full of doubts, close to willing to share them with her. By the way he was anxiously swaying from his left leg to his right, the way he was clenching his fists, she could tell he was nervous.

 

      “Joe,” she called softly.

      He faced her again. He hesitated a second and then he walked inside, keeping the door open, and sat across from her. “You said he’s not your husband?”

      “No,” she answered honestly.

      “But he’s the father to your unborn child? Mulder?” That sounded more like a statement than a question.

      Scully frowned. “What is it to you?” She asked a bit worried.

      He stared at her, taking his time, as if he was walking on eggshells, searching the right words and trying not to reassure her of his intention not to upset her.

      “How did you know I couldn't conceive?”

      “I have developed that … ability.”

Scully’s eyes widened. “How?”

      His gaze was piercing and Scully felt like she was being read as if she was an open book. “I don't know how. I just can.”

      Scully tried to hold his gaze but it was making her so uncomfortable that she put her elbows on the table, leaned her head and rested it in her palms. She sighed.

      “It has nothing to do with you,” he said, trying to be reassuring.

      She tilted her face up, cupping it in her hands. “What has?”

      “You being forced here.”

      She feared the answer, but she had to ask. “Mulder?”

      He nodded.

      “I don't understand.”

      He sighed and took a moment. “It was not supposed to happen like this.” He paused and Scully remained quiet, hoping that he would keep explaining. “We had arranged everything. We even had gathered the stones. The crystals.” He paused again, looking down at his hands. “Carnelian, rose quartz, moonstone and garnet.”

      Scully rummaged through her brain. Did she know anything about these? She could remember. What was he trying to say?

      “But the god of the sky and thunder was against us again. I can't believe how stupid I was to assume we could _fly_ to —” His voice died away and he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

      “Joe, I don't —”

      He held up his hand and sighed again. He stared deeply in her eyes again. “My sister tried to get to Mulder last night but I managed to convince her it was too soon.”

      “ _Get to him?_ How? What do you mean?”

      “She has to … have a child. On Mother’s Day.”

      Scully stared back, unsure she heard right or understood right, and then she giggled nervously. But she instantly stopped when she realized that he was serious. “You’ve got to be joking.” Joe stared back, unmoving and emotionless again. “Oh my God, do you realize you’re talking about _raping_ a man?” she asked, anger building inside her. Unable to tolerate it anymore, she stood.

      “Sit down,” he ordered, standing too and ready to force her down if she didn't want to listen.

      She stayed put, defying him.

      “Sit! Please,” he said more nicely. “I don't want to let this happen. I know this isn't right. Please, sit down.” She complied and he sat back too. “I am just trying to protect my sister. I was just keeping you here for the time ot took her to find the crystals in the plane. Then we’d have disappeared and you would never have seen us again. But your husband ran away while Jane wasn't here and I didn't know what to do. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

      It was Scully’s turn now to try and read his eyes, try to process what was right and what was a lie in all this.

      He slid the gun across the table. “Take it,” he said, “it’s unloaded. It’s always been.” Scully took it and opened the chamber to observe he was telling the truth. “I just want to get my sister somewhere safe. And until she does, you’re staying here.”

      Scully studied him. He looked pained and tired. But now she could feel he wasn't a bad guy. “Did she find them? The stones?”

      He shook his head, sad.

 

As they both fell silent, Scully saw Mulder arriving slowly in the entrance. His eyes were blank and his features seemed fixed. She tensed and straightened in her chair, alerting Joe that someone was here. He spun around on his chair and stood at the sight of Mulder.

Mulder absently walked in, heading directly to the back of the room where the stairs were. He was followed by Jane.


	5. Breaking the charm

As Joe walked over to his sister, Scully darted to Mulder, grabbing him by the arm and trying to stop him, calling out his name softly and worryingly, but he seemed completely unconscious of her presence by his side. He was moving slow and silent, still from the waist up; the only difference between him and a bronze statue was the measured rhythm of his breathing.

 

      She heard Joe say, “Jane, we’ve discussed this, let's get out of here now, come on.”

      “No,” she said calmly.

      “Jane, hold on, wait —” he said.

 

Scully turned around rapidly and saw that Joe was blocking Jane’s way. On observing Jane being gently but strongly held back by Joe, Scully was mesmerized by her eyes. The description Mulder had made of them, almost shining with gold, startled her as she now bore witness of what he had seen. For a brief moment, she thought she saw the tip of a dune, where the breeze brushed away the little dots of sand capturing the glaring of the sun. Mulder had not waited for her; he was heading upstairs to the bedroom. She followed him, trying to figure out a solution, and came up with the only one she could. She pushed him faster, took the key on the outside of the door and locked them in. She didn't know how much time they had and how convincing Joe could be with such a persuasive woman.

Mulder walked straight to the window and looked outside at the river, mesmerized. Scully crossed the room to him, fearing for an instant that he would jump, and gently took his hand with both of hers, calling his name. She had him sitting on the bed. He blankly looked in front of him, transfixed by the window.

 

      Scully kneeled between his legs and lingered her hand on his cheek. “Mulder, it’s me,” she whispered.

 

He was pale and unresponsive. It was as if he was sleeping with his eyes wide open. Catatonic. Sleepwalking. Or _sleepstilling_ or whatever. There was something undeniably frightening. The unresponsiveness of his features. The void in his eyes. The paleness of his skin. Scully wondered if — and if _if_ , when — he would be soon aroused like he had been the previous night. Or worse, if Jane would find some freaky way to call him down into the water in order to drown him. She had to trust that Joe was working with her. For the moment, Joe was all she could rely on. The house was quiet. No noise or voice was coming from downstairs. At least none that she could hear herself.

 

      “Mulder,” she tried again. “Come back to me.” She stood and stepped on the bed, steadying herself by squeezing tightly his shoulder. “Remember Lamaze, Mulder?” She asked as she sat behind him, bending her knees by his sides and pulling him gently by the shoulders so that he would lean onto her. “Well, _you_ used to be behind.” She forced her voice to remain light and cheerful. He let himself guide onto her lap and she tenderly and protectively wrapped her arms around his chest. “But besides this, this is exactly the same. Just listen and focus on my voice. And relax.”

 

She shifted and adjusted her position so that she was leaning forward against him and not carrying all his weight on her stomach. She held him tightly and cuddled him, squeezing him and capturing him between her legs and arms. Her lips brushed his ear as she spoke directly into it, and she brought a hand up to cover his other. The hand that was on his chest was flat and lightly brushing him with a thumb.

 

      “Speak to me, Mulder. Give me some sign that you can hear me. I’m right here. I’ve got your back. You’re safe, _we’re_ safe.” She spoke slowly and distinctly, taking her time to bring him comfort and letting him know the place she was guiding him to was sure. “Everything's going to be all right now. We will soon be all right.” She paused a second to gauge his reaction. He hadn't moved. “The signal on your phone came back on and Frohike called. I’m sure they know where we are now. Help is coming. Now I need _you_ to come back to me. I need you.” She rapidly uncovered his ear so that she could use both her hands. She took his wrists that were numbly resting on his lap and had him wrap her knees with them. Then she covered his ear again and put her other hand back where it was over his chest, fondling him restlessly. As far as she remembered it had always been special when parts of their bodies were in contact, might it be only a finger, soothing in more ways than one. And she was counting on the fact that it would happen again. Their bond was so strong, it had to be. “Mulder,” she whispered again, “this is not real. You’re stronger than this.” She nuzzled her nose in his hair, breathing him in deeply. “You gotta fight and resist her. Listen to me. You know you can trust me.” She hummed _Joy to the World_ and chuckled softly. She felt Mulder quivered once very lightly and briskly looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “Yes, Mulder, you can do this.” She kissed his ear lovingly, closing her eyes in the moment, and she took a deep breath. “Are you ready to hear whether you’re going to be the father of a boy or a girl, Mulder?” She kissed his ear again, tears threatening to break free from her eyes. She pressed tighter on his chest to pull him as close to her as she possibly could, needed to hold him to her tight and make him feel her warmth, her presence. And as she did, she felt him react to her question: his pulse had quickened. She angled her face to look at him but she was too far behind. “It’s a _boy_.” She kissed his jaw and lingered her lips there a moment, closing her eyes again as tears finally rolled down her cheeks. “I know you can hear me.” She felt his hands tighten around her knees. “Yes, that’s it, Mulder, come back to me, keep listening to me. Listen only to my voice.”

      Suddenly Mulder gasped for breath. His eyes popped wide open and then fluttered shut again. Scully closed her eyes too, laughing through tears as she kept shushing and soothing him, wrapping him tighter over his chest and swaying him. His pulse was beating so quickly, she momentarily thought he might have a heart attack. “Calm down. Shhh, relax. You’re safe, Mulder,” she whispered, cuddling him to her.

 

Then just as quickly as he seemed to have come back to reality, he snapped asleep. His arms fell limply at his sides, brushing along her thighs, and his head dropped heavier on her shoulder like a dislocated puppet at the end on a string. But his cheeks had already returned to the slightly tanned color she knew of his skin. Scully slowly crawled back on her butt and held his head as she eased him down to rest on his back. She took his pulse at the base of his throat and upon sensing he was settling down, she ran her hand through his hair. He looked serene now. Even if he slept, she could tell he was peaceful.

As she, too, came back to the present, she listened attentively to the noises coming from the house. Everything was still quiet. What had happened downstairs? Had Joe finally convinced his sister to run off? Were they still there waiting for God knows what? Could Jane still get to Mulder if they were there? Scully suddenly turned her face in another direction, straining to hear. Had she just heard —? She hastily got to her feet and urged herself to the top floor on the widow’s walk. But she had no doubts anymore. She heard sirens; not Mulder's siren but rather a police car’s.

 

***

 

Minutes later, she was sitting at the dining room table across from two police officers. The bright eleven-ish sunlight passing through the windows illuminated a greater part of the lower floor and brushed against her back. Scully couldn’t get enough of this welcoming light and warmth, as she was wrapping her hands around a smoky mug of tea, bending over to softly blow on it. All the uneasiness that she was feeling earlier had vanished. The mysterious Does, too, had vanished. The rain and the night was history too. As for Mulder, he was still sound asleep and resting in the bedroom.

 

      The officers stood. “We’ll call a car and have a team watch the house for the rest of the day and tonight. And we ask that you stay here at least 24 hours, to give us time to send divers to search for that plane. Just in case we have more questions.”

      “Well,” she said, standing up, “our car seems like it needs to be towed anyway.”

      “Would you like us to call someone?”

      “Yes, please. Thank you, officers.”

 

They shook hands and Scully walked them out. Then she reached for her phone she had seen on the buffet.

 

      “Melvin,” she said warmly, “it's Scully.” She listened to him with a smile. “Yes, yes, we’re safe. Thanks to you.” She shook her head. “Oh no, don't bother coming down here. I’ll have Mulder call you later today. Thank you again. Yes, I’ll tell him.”

 

Just as she hung up and put down the phone, there was a knock on the door and she welcomed the meal delivered by the same boy from last night. She realized she was starving and greeted him with a smile.

 

      “My dad said lunch is on him. Thank your husband again for yesterday, please.”

      “He’s not my —” she trailed off and smiled gracefully. “I will. Thank you.”

      “See you tonight,” he said as he hopped on his bike.

 

She settled the meal into cups and plates and put them all on a tray and returned to Mulder.

She laid the tray next to Mulder’s face on the bed and gently blew air in his direction, leaning on the bed on one elbow.

 

      “Smell this, Mulder? If you don't wake up now I cannot guarantee you’ll have anything to eat,” she teased in a whisper.

      “I’m not sleeping,” he said, his eyes closed, his lips curling up into a smile. He opened his eyes and gazed at her. She smiled back. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around, pausing at the door now wide open. “What happened?”

      “They seem to be gone,” she said, planting a fork into a dish of green beans.

      “Just like that?” He asked suspiciously.

      “Long story, Mulder,” she replied, handing the loaded fork over to his mouth.

      He gently grabbed her wrist before the fork had reached his mouth, his face now showing nothing but concern. “Did I … hurt you again?”

      “No,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. He sighed with relief as she continued, “Nothing happened,” she said, feeding him. “And you _never_ hurt me, Mulder.”

 

As they ate, Scully told her about Frohike’s phone call and about the open-hearted conversation she had had with Joe. Mulder gritted his teeth and blamed himself for having left her alone (for nothing) and for her having been hurt. He brushed her cheek soothingly and she squeezed his hand, telling him she was all right.

 

      “Do the crystals carnelian, rose quartz, moonstone and garnet mean anything to you?” She asked.

      “Yeah, they’re fertility stones. Why?”

      She chuckled. “Mulder, you never fail to surprise me.” She gazed at him in wonder, then she said, “Joe mentioned them.” She put down the fork. “Was that what it was about? Her wanting to get pregnant?”

      “I think she needed to, yes. Maybe to reverse the spell, her sealed and doomed fate, maybe to keep her ancestors’ branch alive.”

      “Sirens.”

      He smiled and nodded.

      “With you?” She smiled.

      He chuckled. “I um, I think she or they saw me as her way to salvation. I mean, maybe they thought I might have had some kind of a, um, superpower. You know, fathering the child of a barren woman. _If_ … that’s who you think I am anyway.”

      She looked at him intently. “That’s how I feel. It’s the only plausible explanation I could come up with.” He nodded softly. “But to say that you have superpowers, Mulder …” She pushed the tray further toward Mulder and crawled on the bed toward the pillows. “Would you mind doing the dishes? I need to rest a bit; I feel … exhausted,” she said, letting herself fall on her side, facing him on the bed.

      Mulder shifted on his stomach, pushed a lock of her hair further back on her crown. He laid his palm on her belly, his eyes drifting between hers and her stomach. “Did you mention something about this child earlier? I have that strange feeling I missed something.”

      She smiled at him and closed her eyes, her lips still curled up from ear to ear.

      “Scully?”

      “Later, Mulder,” she whispered.

 

He kissed her cheek and pulled himself up, taking away the tray.


	6. Chapter 6

Scully woke at the sound of motorboats. She stirred and scooted back to lean against the headboard. She was alone. The sun had lowered but it was still daytime.

All the bustle was coming from the search team on the river. Mulder was leaning with his elbows on the baluster, his hands clasped together, watching the coming and going of the two police boats circling the divers. She crossed the deck to him and mirrored his position, her shoulder merely touching his arm. He turned to see her.

 

      “You should stay away from the river, Mulder,” she grinned.

      “The fuss woke you?”

      “It’s okay, I slept. Did they find anything?”

      “Not yet.”

      “How long have they been here?”

      He looked at his watch. “About two hours.” He looked over to the river. “The car’s been towed too.”

      “Good,” she whispered.

      “I can't believe what a beautiful day it has been,” he said, looking at the sky. “It’s like yesterday's storm was the deed of an evil force.”

 

 _But the god of the sky and thunder was against us_. Joe’s voice echoed in her mind. Mulder had made a point, it _was_ beautiful today. But it was not inconceivable to have a short tempest event in the while. It didn't mean anything. Last night was perturbing to say the least, but she couldn't help but counteract and dismiss every argument. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear the Deputy approaching on the deck.

 

      “We’re going to postpone until tomorrow,” he said to them. “I gotta find more divers. Are you sure a plane crashed there? Right there?” The deputy asked.

      “Right there where your boats are, yes,” Mulder said. “How deep is the river?”

      “Not very. But then again, there’s always a little stream that could have drawn it a little further down. We’ll pursue our search tomorrow morning.”

      “Okay,” Mulder nodded.

      “I’ll keep two officers around throughout the night.”

      “Thank you,” he said, shaking hands.

 

Mulder and Scully looked at him as he walked away. The boats were going back to the shore. Mulder gazed at Scully as she watched the search crew and then he extended his hand to her.

 

      “Walk with me?”

 

She smiled and took his hand. They walked away from the house, following the river, enjoying the nice warm breeze in silence, hand in hand.

 

      “It’s so quiet out here,” she breathed with a content sigh after a long silence.

      “Yes,” he replied softly. “Hard to imagine all that happened in the last 24 hours. Can we start over? I wasn't ready.” He smiled.

      “I wasn't either,” she said, returning his smile.

      He slowly stopped walking and spun around, taking her other hand in his. He gazed intently and apologetically at her. “Scully, about what happened …”

      She shook her head. “Mulder, there’s nothing you need to apologize for.”

      “I think I do.”

      “You were in pain and you made it very clear that I should … stay away. It was my choice not to listen to you.”

      “I’m afraid I hurt you, or hurt your feelings.”

      “None of that.”

      “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He wrapped his arms around her waist, clasping his hands on the small of her back.

 

He cupped the back of her skull and leaned in, pulling her into a kiss. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, stroking her tongue against his. He kissed her deeply and she wound her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. She moaned softly as his tongue toyed with hers in a sensuous assault. He pressed her face closer to his, angling their faces and digging deeper, igniting a heat she was very familiar with between her legs. The swirling of his tongue was methodically slow, both erotically provoking and unnervingly frustrated. His kiss was drugging. She let out another groan that was absorbed by the kiss as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. She felt her knees going weak and her head spinning, her heart rhythm taking an inappropriate speed if she were to _ever_ return home in one piece. When she finally broke the kiss for air and sanity measures, he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling her, breathing her in, wanting more.

 

      “God, Mulder,” she breathed, her eyes wet, “don't do that to me.”

      He pulled back and captured her face in his hands. “I’m sorry, I got … overwhelmed.” His smile was soft and warm, but the eyes that were staring at her were filled with such a level of lust and love that they sent another rush of heat throughout her body, and it made her want him right now.

      Right here. _Get ahold of yourself, Dana. You’re in no condition for that right now_ , she reasoned with herself. She cocked her head and furrowed her brows. “Is it just you at work here, Mulder?”

      “Ha ha, yes,” he chuckled, “come on, let’s go back,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

 

      As they walked back, Mulder broke the comfortable silence and asked, “Penny for your thoughts?”

      “What's that?”

      “I said: A penny —”

      “No, I mean, _this_ ,” she said, pointing toward the shore.

 

Gently pushed by the small waves of the river, a wooden chest about ten inches wide was floating on the surface and hitting against the rocks.

Mulder went to take it and settled it down by Scully’s feet.

 

      “It’s locked”, he said, picking it up again, “let’s see if we can find something to open it with at home.”

 

***

 

      “Carnelian, rose quartz, moonstone and garnet,” Mulder said, looking down at the open chest sitting on the dining room table.

      “That’s it?”

 

In front of them laid the four glassy and translucent stones, each of them initially protected in a piece of fabric.

 

      “I guess that part was true,” Scully said bitterly.

      “ _That_ part? Which part wasn't?”

      She smiled and shrugged. “I don't believe in sirens.”

      “Scully, I was sexually assaulted last night. And I don't mean by you, I mean by a _voice_.”

      “Mulder, I could come just from the sound of your voice —”

      “Ha,” he gaped.

      “— and it wouldn't be the first time.”

      “Without me touching you?” He asked in disbelief.

      “Uh huh,” she nodded playfully.

      “Well, that’s not what happened to me.”

      “You don't believe I can bewitch you, Mulder?” She asked, sensually crossing over to him and laying her hands on his chest.

      “Oh no, I know you can,” he smiled, pressing her hands upon his heart. “Apart from being extravagantly sexy, what do you do for a living?”

      She giggled.

      “And tell your nipples to stop staring at me, please.”

 

She giggled louder and dropped her forehead against his chest. He cupped the back of her head and stroked it gently, pressing his lips onto her hair while his other arm hooked around her waist, holding her close.

 

      “What time is your delivery boy coming back?” She asked, looking up at him and circling her arms around his waist.

      He cupped her jaw. “Around 7 or 8. You hungry?”

      “A little,” she said teasingly. “So we have … what? A couple hours to kill?”

      “Hum, what could we possibly do? I could make some phone calls and order something else that you’re craving. _Tacos on me_.”

 

They laughed and he pulled her close to kiss her until they were both breathless.

 

      “I would carry you upstairs,” he said between ragged breaths, “but I think it’s safer if we walk.”

 

Once in the bedroom, laying face to face on the bed, he kissed her more tenderly and lovingly than she had ever felt before. Or maybe it was her hormones again. Fuck, she didn't know. She didn't care. She wanted more. She wanted all that he was willing to give. She kissed him harder. She could barely breathe and every inch of her skin was begging for his touch. She began to unbutton her blouse but he broke the kiss and stopped her.

 

      “Hold on. Not now,” he breathed, “I want to make it up to you for last night.”

      “Mulder, for God’s sake, last night was good for me too —”

      He leaned in and kissed across her throat, making her lean her head back. “I want to make it right.”

      She sighed in frustration, her heart pounding. “How can you even stand it!?”

      She reached her hand down to his pants and he stopped her again. He smiled. “You trust me, Scully?” She nodded and licked her lips. Damn, her mouth was so dry. “Good, ‘cause I want to make love to you, not simply fuck you.”

      “And what if I want to?” She asked with a bold smile, her hand going back to his pants again.

 

As a response, he took both her hands, intertwined his fingers with hers and pushed her on her back by pinning her hands on the mattress next to her head. On his knees by her side, he bent down and covered her mouth with his again. She arched her back, feeling pleasure and heat rise from her core, and she moaned in his mouth. Then he trailed kisses from her mouth to her jaw, to her throat, and to her breasts. Her chest swelled, his hot breaths burning her sensitive skin. She squeezed his hands tighter, tempted to tell him to forget about the foreplay. She was more than ready for him. Every single nerve of her body was on fire and she was desperate for him.

 

      “God, Mulder, get that blouse open already,” she breathed, looking down at him.

 

He smiled at her and used one hand to still her. She arched her back further up and he freed her from her blouse and bra while she grabbed his shoulder to sit up and pull him out of his tee-shirt.

He crashed his mouth over hers, holding back her head and pushing her back down. She felt the thin hair of his chest tickling her breasts, and her nipples hardened at the touch. He took her hands again and he lingered his torso against her chest as he continued assaulting her mouth.

 

      “Relax,” he whispered in her ear, brushing a kiss upon it, “I want you too. Very much. But remember to breathe.”

 

He returned to her breasts and she relished at the overpowering sensation of joy and love that filled her thoroughly when his lips made contact with her again. She was tingling with excitement from her hair to her toes. She forced herself to relax.

He let go of one hand and fondled her all the way down her center. Her legs instantly responded and opened wider, shivering. He slid his hand under her pants and panties and caressed her. She gasped and moaned louder and reached out for his stomach with her free hand. His skin was hot and sweaty. When he slid a finger into her, she yanked her head back into the pillow while her hand blindly drifted south to unzip him. She was so wet she could smell her own arousal as it hit her nostrils. She pulled her head up, her mouth open and panting, looking at him as he nipped her nipple. He slid a second finger in her while she pulled his pants down to his knees and freed him from his confining boxers. She wrapped her hand around and caressed his sex, adjusting the speed of her hand to match the speed of his fingers inside her. She was ready to explode.

He freed her other hand and straightened up to remove her pants, and she missed the feel of him instantly as she lifted her hips to help. When she laid naked in front of him, she cupped his face to bring him back to her mouth while he positioned his knees between her legs. Her breathing quickened and she kissed him with wild abandonment as his hand went back to its task with the help of his thumb rolling around her clitoris. Unable to reach his sex anymore as he was too far away across her round belly, she grabbed his shoulders instead and kneaded her nails on his burning skin. He groaned and arched his back, the tip of his sex brushing against her folds and his chest lingering on hers. She cupped the back of his head and kissed him even harder, both of them panting in each other's mouth. She was too close to the small edge she was holding on to. She felt all her muscles tense at one last stroke of his thumb and she cried out in his mouth, jolts of pleasure running down all her nerves.

Mulder pulled back and kissed her cheek, pressing his lips and nose fervently a few seconds on the side of her face. She felt his breathing, hot, warm and panting as she pressed her eyes firmly shut.

 

      His lips lingered to her ear and he breathed, “That’s more like it.”

      She turned her head, and opened her eyes to him. Speechless, she smiled. And he smiled back.

 

He pushed her gently to her side and spooned her. He slid an arm under her armpit and his other arm met the other above her chest, both hands cupping her breasts. He pulled her back closer to him, his forehead against her hair and his mouth close to her ear. She could feel his heartbeat drumming into her own ribcage. As her heart rate settled down slowly, she felt his erection on her butt. He tried not to press, but he was too close to go unnoticed.

 

      He kissed the top of her ear and whispered, “I love you, Scully.”

 

She fought to push back the threatening tears of overwhelming joy as her throat constricted. She arched her back and swayed her hips to feel him again. One of her hands hovered over his, pressing them tighter against her breasts while the other lingered behind her on his ass, then it slid between her back and his stomach. When he felt her looking for him again, he nipped her ear and sucked the lobe of it, gently rocking his length into her hand with small sways of his hips.

He pinched a nipple between his thumb and his index finger and lingered the back of his hand and fingernails down to her belly. There, he stilled his large palm flat protectively against her. She was going to cry if he stayed there, so she covered his hand tenderly and mingled her fingers with his. She then slid both their hands between her legs as they opened for him again.

While he started to move his skilled fingers on her, she sensually stroked him a few more times, then she pushed his length under her buttock and rocked her hips back and forth between it and his fingers. He rubbed her nipples with his other hand and panted in her ear. She pushed her head back. He buried his face in her neck, nuzzling it, nipping it and licking it. Showering her with kisses. Their breathing was becoming quicker and shallower. He thrusted his hips faster, the tip of his sex rubbing her folds while his fingers were still working their magic.

He removed the arm that was stuck under her and propped himself on his elbow. He bent over to her, and cupped her face, pulling it back to him so he could kiss her mouth again. She moved her upper leg across his and rested her foot behind his bent knees. When she took his shaft in her hand, he moaned and kissed her harder.

She rocked his hips against him again, her hand between her legs lingering on his sex every time it met her folds. She arched her back further until the tip of him rubbed her entrance and she broke their kiss, nearly coming again from the waves of pleasure that washed over her. She wanted him inside her. She so wanted him.

 

      “Now, please, Mul—” she just pleaded, breathless.

 

Before she could finish her sentence, he had moved down a little, trailing kisses on her shoulder and guided his sex to her entrance. He entered her in a slow and deep thrust.

 

      “—lder,” she finished with a hoarse voice when he stilled himself in her.

      “You’re one impatient woman, you know that?” He breathed, kissing her shoulder.

 

His fingers gripped her hips as he slowly pulled out of her and thrusted into her again, and she gripped his strong forearm to hold on to something as waves of ecstasy rushed through her one more time. He bent his forehead against her back and she felt his breathing growing ragged against her. As he moved throughout her body, they both moaned, letting the intoxicating sensations draw the vocal sounds out of them. They were panting hard as they met each other with each thrust. He entered her fully and she arched into him. He cupped the inside of her thigh and lifted her leg higher, adjusting the angle. He drifted lower and clung to her with a series of rhythmic thrusts, increasing speed. He kissed and blew hot air against her shoulder now and then. She felt her walls violently breaking as his sex deeply filled her and her climax overtook her with convulsive shudders. He increased his speed again gripping at her hips to rock her harder, and not a minute later, he whimpered in heavy panting as he climaxed inside her.

 

      “Fuck,” he breathed out.

 

He pulled out and eased himself with his forehead on her back and she rolled onto her other side to face him. They were both catching their breath and he tenderly cupped her face with one hand while she lingered her hand on his solid chest. His pulse was racing and his body trembled slightly as they leaned their foreheads against one another.

 

      After a while, Scully said, “Say it to my face.”

      He looked up at her, questioning, “What?”

      “What you said before.”

      “Fuck?” He asked.

      She smiled with a face that meant _No_.

      He smiled too. There was a playful sparkling in his eyes that told her he knew very well what she was referring to. He leaned in, gave her one peck on the lips and leaned back again. He stared at her and truthfully said, “I love you.”

 

These loving eyes and easy smile across his face made her feel so fortunate and so fulfilled that it was worth all the deeds they had been through together. These eyes. Even before she and Mulder had been intimately together, these eyes had been filled with love for her. Love and respect. These eyes had always soothed her, eased her, warmed her and reassured her.

 

      He brushed her forehead from side to side over her eyebrows with his thumb. “Where are you?” He whispered.

      She smoothed her brows she didn't know she was furrowing and gazed at him. Her blue eyes mirroring the same sparkling that was in his.

      “You okay?” He asked quietly, caressing her from her shoulder to her hand that he grabbed tenderly.

      “I love you,” she whispered, close to tears.

      He scooted closer and cuddled her tightly. “I know,” he said with a reassuring voice.

 

Encased within his warm embrace, she closed her eyes and soon drifted into sleep.

 

***

 

Two days later, they were reading on the couch when Mulder got up upon the deputy’s knock at the door.

 

      “Hi,” the deputy said, “just wanted to let you know that we’re abandoning the search.”

      “Really?”

      “Yeah, there’s no plane there.”

      “What do you mean _There’s no plane_?” Scully asked from the back, passing by the small chest that now laid closed on the dresser and crossing to the men at the door.

      “We have radars, sonars, state-of-the-art gear and we found nothing close to resembling a plane down there.”

      “But it was there,” she insisted.

      “It was a pretty bad storm, so maybe you thought it was a plane. But due to the uneven riverbed and rocks down below there and unless there’s a crater that we missed — which I doubt — if there was a plane, we would have found it by now. No stream, no matter how strong, would have moved it from there.”

      “Deputy, —” Mulder said.

      “I’m sorry, the search is over. Oh and I heard from the tow company, your car should be back up and running in the afternoon.” He searched his pockets and withdrew a folded sheet of paper from them. “Um, no offense but you two seem like good guys, so I tried to understand how you could have imagined a plane crashing.”

      “Deputy, we didn't imagined it,” Mulder argued.

      “Well, anyway, I couldn't figure it out. But I found this on the significance of dreams.” He handed Mulder the paper awkwardly and said, “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

 

Mulder and Scully looked at each other in disbelief. Mulder unfolded the sheet of paper and held it so that they could both read it.

A paragraph was printed out from a computer: _Dreaming of an airplane crashing may be a metaphor for some aspect of your life that is in danger of ending quickly and unexpectedly._ And the rest was hand written: _Take care of each other, Deputy Knowle._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to my FANFASTIC alpha, beta and omega proof-editor Michelle!  
> And thank you all for reading :) I tried to write smut, tried hard, but each time I seem to fail and end up with a plot and a story... ;)


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